Whose Birthday Is It Anyway?
by epicpickleninja
Summary: Lydia is in need of a prom date. Why not ask her friendly neighborhood Stiles? Set in Season 4. Stydia!


"You're going to prom with me."

Stiles eyes flickered towards the strawberry blonde. "Why hello, Lydia, nice to see you too."

Lydia sighed dramatically. "Stiles…"

"What? Excuse me for wanting an actual conversation. Why do you want to go to prom with me anyway? There are guys literally throwing themselves at you."

"They aren't _literally _throwing themselves at me."

"Gree—"

"He tripped."

"Did he though?"

"Yes, Kira attempted to help him and she also slid on the puddle."

"She didn't fall to your feet though."

"Greenburg doesn't have a werewolf boyfriend to catch him."

"Not that we know of."

"We're going to prom together, Stiles. Stop rambling."

"No offense—like you're awesome and stuff—but me? Why?"

"Who else are you going to go with?" Lydia snapped.

Stiles pursed his lips while Lydia swore internally. Stiles' lack of tact was wearing off on her. It was terrible. Not quite as terrible as explosion that was Malia and Stiles' breakup, but close. While Malia eventually understood that her biological dad was a certifiable psycho, Stiles' initial betrayal of keeping her in the dark was far more damaging to their relationship than even Lydia expected, and she had been advocating for the boys to tell Malia the truth ever since Mexico. She glanced worriedly as Stiles tightening his hands around his textbooks and she quickly changed tactics before he could escape to Economics.

"I'm so tired of high school boys, Stiles. I can't deal with them."

"Dude, you realize I'm in high school," Stiles deadpanned, looking at her in skepticism, but no longer in danger of leaving. Lydia hid her satisfaction with a roll of her eyes.

"_Dude_, you're Stiles. You're obviously an exception."

Stiles studied her for a moment before a slow smirk spread across his face. Lydia studied her nails critically in an attempt to mask her unease. Stiles was so unnerving sometimes.

"I'd obviously expect something in return for being your prom date," Stiles said.

"I'm not doing your chemistry homework."

Stiles sputtered indignantly. "It's not my fault every chemistry teacher this school hires is out to get me! But I'm going to charm him with my wit and devotion to the periodic table. I don't need your chemistry help, I'm getting an A even if I have to hack into his computer and change my grades myself."

"Well, as long as you're going on the moral high ground," Lydia drawled. "What? Do you want me to help plan someone's birthday party? It's a known fact that I throw the best parties in Beacon Hills."

"No? Random."

"You have an envelope with 'Happy Birthday' written on it in your locker."

Stiles flailed. "Wha—who's birthday is it?"

"I don't know, Stiles."

"It's obviously someone important," Stiles said, squinting at the envelope. "I got them an Avengers card."

"I thought you were more into DC."

"I'm more Batman than DC. Marvel and DC are on two very different levels."

"Did you not write them a note? That's what people generally do in cards."

Stiles hissed. "I can't check! It's already in the envelope! I can't just rip the envelope, Lydia. It's special."

"An envelope that's dated a month ago. So apparently you missed their birthday," Lydia said before frowning. "Did you just hiss?"

"A belated happy birthday is better than no happy birthday at all. And yes I did. I tend to do that around blasphemy."

"Really? Blasphemy? I don't think that means what you think it means."

"Profane talk. You don't have to be a genius to know that."

"You realize you could buy another envelope. That's another thing you don't have to be a genius to figure out."

"Oooh someone brought their snark today."

"I only learn from the best."

Stiles put a hand on his heart. "That's touching."

"That's really not a compliment."

"Shh. You're ruining our moment."

"We're not having a moment. You're freaking out because you refuse to rip an easily replaceable, paper envelope."

"The Avengers card came with a special envelope hence why I can't rip it. Did you completely ignore my hiss?"

"I tried."

"Why you gotta be so rude—"

"Stop, I hate that song," Lydia said.

"I know."

"So mature of you."

"You should only expect the best since _the_ Lydia Martin deemed me worthy to accompany her to prom."

"So you're coming?"

"If you meet my request."

Lydia narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I'm not psychic, Stiles. Use words. Talking is one of your few talents."

Stiles glanced up at the warning bells. "I'm feeling the sudden, overwhelming guilt of a slacker. I feel like I should turn a new leaf. Maybe I'll start being a good student and get to Coach's class on time."

Lydia yanked Stiles' hand, halting his escape. "Since when are you a good student?"

"Harsh, Lydia. If you want to woo me, I'd recommend a different tactic."

"What?"

"Woo me. Dazzle me. I don't go with just anyone to a dance. You have to earn it. " Stiles beamed at her gaping mouth. "Now excuse me, I'm going to be a good student."

"Are you serious?" Lydia yelled at Stiles' back.

"Woo me!"

~O~

"How does one woo a Stiles?" Kira asked, watching Lydia pace around her room.

"I'm getting there."

"It's been a week."

"I realize that, Kira, thank you."

"You even sound like him," Malia said, leaning in Lydia's doorway. She huffed at Lydia's startled expression and Kira's squeak. "Your mom let me in and she fed me cookies. I didn't know she could bake."

"Um…hi!" Kira said, her eyes flickering between the banshee and werecoyote. "So uh…how are you? Not that anything is weird. Or should be weird. Or you should feel weird in any way, shape, or form. Because nothing awkward is happening. Like what? What awkward thing would we do in Lydia's room? I just uh…we were…"

"Malia, do you really want to be here when I attempt to woo your ex-boyfriend?"

Malia wrinkled her nose. "Not particularly. I wanted him to be single forever when we first broke up. Scott told me that that was actually a human reaction but not a good one. So yeah, trying to be a good human and support my friend. I guess. So here I am. Plus Stiles and I had some 'closure' a while ago. I didn't know what that was at first, but it was nice."

"I…thank you."

Malia shrugged.

"Not a lot of girls would react this way."

"Yeah, yeah bitches be bitches. Let's just hug and get it over with," Malia said, yanking Lydia towards her. "I _know_ this is a hug-y situation. I've seen movies."

Lydia patted Malia's back a few times before squeezing out of the embrace. "I'm glad you're here," she smiled. "But down to business."

"Wooing Stiles? It shouldn't be that hard. We had sex in an insane asylum during our fourth interaction of any kind," Malia said. Her eyes snapped to Lydia. The strawberry blonde internally cursed were-creature's astute hearing. Her heart thumped because she was startled. Obviously. Being alarmed by surprising news does that. The human body is stupid and releases adrenaline even when the situation doesn't require it. It's not her fault. It's biology's. "Is that too much information? Girls share that type of shit, right? Like in sleepovers and in the bathrooms? That's why girls go to the bathroom with a posse, right?"

"No, dangerous things happen in the girl's bathroom," Kira said seriously. "Hermione had to face a troll in one. Plus, Myrtle died in a bathroom. Girl's bathrooms are sketchy."

"At Beacon Hills? When did this happen?" Malia asked, staring at her Asian friend with wide eyes.

Kira frowned and sat up slowly on the bed. "No…in Harry Potter."

Malia's blank expression did not waver.

"You cannot tell me Stiles let you get away with not watching Harry Potter," Lydia said.

"Well, he obviously did," Malia snapped. "I watched that space movie and a lot of superhero ones."

"Typical," Lydia muttered.

"Our generation grew up with Harry Potter!" Kira said. "Or, at least, most of us did. We need to fix this."

"How? It can't be that great."

Kira gaped at her. "You mustn't say such things."

"I own all the movies," Lydia said.

"Oh! I vote sleepover," Kira called, throwing a pillow at Malia. The werecoyote refrained from clawing said pillow, which Lydia counted as progress. "We'll probably need ice cream."

"Oh definitely," Lydia agreed. Malia was flippant now, but she would definitely bawl during the fifth movie. Ice cream and tissues would be in order.

"I vote pillow fights. This is my first sleepover and we're doing all the classics," Malia said.

Lydia felt a pang. It was the small reminders that brought Malia's lack of childhood to center stage. She missed so much growing up. Lydia and Kira met each other's gazes. "I could give you two makeovers."

"Yes! And we already have a lovely movie lineup and junk food?" Kira trailed off, glancing at Lydia

"We can get some."

"And do we kiss too?" Malia asked. "Or is that just movies? Stiles said that movies were dramatized but I see that making out thing a lot."

"No kissing," Lydia said, glancing at Kira's blushing face in amusement. "At least not for me."

"I'll go order a pizza!" Kira blurted, rushing out of the room.

Lydia smirked before narrowing her eyes at the dry erase board she procured. "And back to business."

~O~

Stiles was unimpressed. He had expected more.

"Dude, I'm confused."

"Don't be confused, Scotty. Eat a chocolate."

"Yeah, why do you have the chocolates?" Scott asked, frowning at Stiles' locker.

"Because I deserve it."

"And the giant teddy bear?"

"Obviously."

"Did Lydia really think this would work?"

"Apparently," Stiles said. "Cliché, Martin!"

"She's not around, dude."

"She's Lydia Martin. She has ears everywhere."

~O~

"It's not cliché! It's romantic," Lydia hissed, glancing at her reflection briskly in the bathroom mirror.

"It is the classic romantic gesture," Kira said soothingly.

"I still think you should just give him a dead animal," Malia said, smiling toothily at the startled freshman washing her hands next to them. The freshman quickly grabbed her purse and made herself scarce.

"People don't do that," Lydia snapped. "We've been over this."

"I'm not the one uncreatively, romantically wooing someone," Malia sneered. "He probably thinks you're not even trying."

Lydia bristled. "He thinks that was cliché romance? He's seen nothing yet."

~O~

"Stiles! Door!"

His son groaned dramatically. "Another one?"

"It appears so," the Sheriff said, turning a page in the newspaper. He smirked as Stiles trudged towards the door, swearing something about The Notebook. The Stilinski household was beginning to resemble a greenhouse. His son's persistent flower-sender managed to cover all of their available tabletops with vases of roses. When the doorbell first rang this morning, the Sheriff bemusedly signed for the flowers and yelled for his son, who promptly rolled his eyes at the red roses. Now, after the ninth florist in Beacon Hills rang the doorbell, Stiles' initial disregard transformed into exasperation. It was all very amusing.

"Why me?" Stiles complained while he manhandled five new flower vases on the countertop. His dad smiled at his son's struggles.

"Just a shot in the dark, but I believe someone wants to go to prom with you," the Sheriff said, looking pointedly at one of the many notes. "Look, this one is even in French. How romantic."

Stiles remained unamused. "You don't understand! Lydia is only doing this to prove a point. This is a decoy. I can tell."

The Sheriff lifted an eyebrow. "Lydia? The same Lydia that drags you out of bed at a reasonable hour most weekends? The same Lydia that glares down the diner employees if they even try to hand me anything covered in grease?"

"Do we know any other Lydias?"

"Didn't you go to the dance with her last year? What changed? I thought you two were still friends unless you two finally—"

Stiles flushed. "We're still friends. _Just _friends."

"That still doesn't explain why our house smells like roses."

"She _demanded _I go to prom with her," Stiles exclaimed, flailing his arms, "so I told her to woo me."

"So you now have the redhead you've been obsessing over since you were five going through extreme efforts to ask you to prom."

"Strawberry blonde," Stiles corrected weakly.

"Stiles, if you still feel the same about her, you should let her know so she doesn't take this too far and end up accidentally—"

"No one is going to get hurt, Dad," Stiles interrupted hurriedly. "My feelings have evolved from the long distance admiring."

"Into?"

"Friendship!"

The Sheriff studied his son's burning face. He was looking everywhere but at his eyes, so the Sheriff knew Stiles was truly flustered. If Stiles was trying to convincingly lie, he would never break eye contact. The Sheriff sighed internally. Why did teenagers have to be so dramatic? "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Stiles…"

"Everything's fine," Stiles said. "Read your paper."

The doorbell rang echoed cheerfully through the house.

Stiles groaned. "I swear I'm going to shove these flowers down her throat…or watch The Notebook with her to appease her."

"Atta boy."

"I don't need your sass right now."

~O~

"Is he still saying no?" Kira asked, absentmindedly slurping her milkshake.

"Of course," Lydia said, smirking at Stiles' unimpressed selfie with a sea of roses in the background, "this was me proving what excessive romance was. You should've seen my notes. They are all masterpieces."

"How'd you even afford all those flowers?" Kira asked.

"I have my ways."

Malia raised an eyebrow at her.

"And a lot of coupons."

"Are you going to publicly serenade him next?" Malia asked, sniffing her fries experimentally. Shrugging, she added more ketchup and began chewing on them.

"As much as I love Stiles, I wouldn't even if I could sing."

"Love?" Kira asked.

Lydia froze and instantly berated her involuntary stupid reaction "Yes, like how friends love and appreciate each other."

"You lied," Malia declared. "She lied."

"I don't love-love him," Lydia sneered. "Don't act so middle school."

"She lied again," Malia sang.

"Lydia, you realize you can share with us," Kira said gently. "This is a judgment-free zone."

Lydia's eyes flickered worriedly at Malia against her permission. Malia rolled her eyes in response. "I won't break, I promise."

"You just broke up with him!" Lydia hissed.

"I broke up with him five months ago," Malia said. "Since then we had closure, which I told you about, we got used to being single, and are becoming friends again. Also, I'm learning how to flirt. It's going well. I'm awesome at it. So yeah, this is weird. But, to be perfectly honest, I would rather you two be together than him and somebody else."

"That's…sweet?"

"Yes, it is," Malia agreed, taking a huge bite of her burger.

Lydia studied her bracelets. "It just happened so slowly. It creeped up on me and then suddenly I realized it was there and it was overwhelming. I really care for Stiles. I knew that at the end of sophomore year. But now…I want him to be safe with me. I want to go to stupid movie dates with him, I want to hold his hand, I want to make him laugh…I just want him. But I have no idea how to tell him and it's miserable."

"You guys are cute," Kira said, breaking the silence.

"I feel like you could literally say just that," Malia said.

"It would be kind of adorable to see you make a grand romantic gesture, though," Kira mused. "Make a public declaration? Show him how you feel? I feel like outright telling him will be the only way he understands you're serious."

Malia vigorously nodded her head. "Yes, claim he publicly."

"And from what I hear, Stiles has been your number one fan since middle school," Kira said. "I feel like the odds are in your favor."

Lydia poked her salad with her fork, but smiled gratefully at her friends. "I'll think of something."

~O~

Stiles happily drummed a beat on his Economics textbook. Chemistry had been awesome. Yes, he, Stiles Stilinski, was mesmerized with his chemistry class aka Satan's subject. Not that anything was wrong with chemistry specifically per say. The teacher only slightly hated him irrationally. Stiles swore that Mr. Harris somehow influenced the new Beacon Hills' chemistry teacher. Nothing else explained Mr. Johnson's revulsion of anything Stiles-related. Scott was lucky that he was naturally charming and gave off a puppy dog vibe or else Stiles would have ruined his best friend's chemistry grade. The rest of his friends appeared to be off Mr. Johnson's radar. Yay small miracles.

And huge miracles! Because chemistry had been unexpectedly epic. Mr. Johnson had been demonstrating their experiment at the front of the classroom. Except, mid-lecture, Mr. Johnson's added compound caused the flask's contents to almost immediately foam and gush over the entire table. A few splatters even made it to the floor. It was everywhere. And the look of horror on Mr. Johnson's face was priceless. Stiles cackled.

Mr. Johnson's gawk at the orange mess turned into a glare when he caught Stiles laughing. Not that Stiles should be expected to contain it. Besides, the entire class minus Jared was cracking up. As soon as Mr. Johnson stretched his arm to point accusingly at Stiles, the flask spurted the remnants of foam, spraying over Mr. Johnson's pristine lab coat.

The chemistry teacher just closed his eyes. He looked so defeated. It was _wonderful_. "This compound is completely harmless. It's very similar to very thick soap bubbles. This'll just stain extremely bad. So beware. Dan? Go fetch a janitor. Everyone else, just go to the library."

And so for the rest of class, Stiles and Scott played paper football and Stiles texted the awesome story to Lydia. She hadn't responded. Yet. She's probably paying attention in class. Nerd. Or she's filing her nails. Divas, am I right?

"I'm satisfied with life."

"I heard," Scott said.

"Mr. Johnson's face…was epic. I hope he destroyed that table."

"Maybe if you didn't take pleasure in his pain Mr. Johnson wouldn't hate you so much?"

"Don't be so naïve, my schadenfreude is called karma. Johnson will just have to live with the consequences."

"Guys! The orchestra is playing in the middle of the hallway!"

"No one cares, Greenburg," Stiles said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously when Scott instantly perked up.

"Come on, Danny is in orchestra," Scott said, pulling Stiles away from one of the library's coveted cushioned couches. Stiles tried to swat Scott's hands away, but he was persistent. Stupid werewolf. "Danny is awesome. Everybody likes Danny. I'll miss the dude over breaks or any other long, random increments of time when he just seems to vanish."

"Are we complaining about how Danny hasn't appeared in season four yet and everyone is irritated or are we just not going there?"

"We're not going there," Scott decided. "But still, you like the orchestra. I don't get why you're fighting me so much. Maybe they're playing to give us a preview of their concert?"

"They don't have a concert coming up," Stiles said, resignedly following his best friend.

"How could you possibly know that?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "It's called observation. Don't act so astonished. It's not like I recited pi to you."

Scott unhelpfully yanked Stiles in the main lobby towards the orchestra. Stiles frowned as they played. They sounded fantastic. Their music seemed like something usually played in the dramatic point of a romance movie, but everything sounded better with instrumental music. He searched for Danny and he quickly did a double take. Understanding and confusion flooded through him. What was Lydia _doing_? Why was she scrutinizing the teeming lobby from her perch by the cellos? This could not be for him. Except there was no other logical reason Lydia would organize this. Was there?

Scott lightly pushed him forwards. Stiles stared at his friend in betrayal. The dick knew what was happening all along. Scott gave him a thumbs-up as he walked backwards towards Kira.

Stiles took a deep breath and gazed back at Lydia, hoping that his expression didn't show his anxiety too much. The strawberry blonde smiled—partially in victory and partially in some other tender emotion Stiles didn't want to overanalyze—when their eyes connected. His heart thumped loudly in his chest. She began to make her way towards him, the violins swelling around her and Danny smiling encouragingly. Stiles subtly pinched himself to make sure this was legitimately happening. He knew that he asked her to woo him, but here? In the middle of the hallway? Under their classmates' bewildered faces? Stiles suddenly felt shy and uncertain. Lydia fondly rolled her eyes at him, a soft smile gracing her face, cracking the otherwise haughty exterior she hid behind in front of large crowds. Stiles glanced around them. Yep, this was definitely a large crowd. Lydia halted a few steps in front of him.

"You are a pain, Stiles Stilinski," Lydia began. Stiles couldn't hold back his snort. Oh how he adored this girl. "You couldn't just agree to accompany me to prom when I first asked you. No—"

"You call that asking? Try demanding."

"_No_," she continued forcibly, "you had to be a prick about it and wanted to be 'wooed,' but then didn't want 'cliché' romance. You're irritating, Stilinski. Even before we became friends you were a constant pain in my side. You make jokes at inopportune times, you talk incessantly, your flailing is a danger to you and everybody in your general vicinity, you constantly debate my theories and plans, and you realize that constant sarcasm doesn't count as a second language, right? My point is, Stiles, that I kind of hate you. Well, maybe hate is a strong word, but you're extremely vexing." Stiles felt his stomach drop. Lydia continued to stare at him determinedly. "But then I still overwhelmingly care about you. It's an annoying combination that makes no logical sense." She took a step forward. "You're loyal, you care _so much_ for your friends, your lack of filter is fantastic, you make me want to be a better person, and you somehow don't seem to realize how unique and wonderful you are. I wouldn't change a single thing about you."

"Lydia…" Stiles was lost for words, his emotions swirling around in a mixture of elated yearning and hope.

Lydia shushed him and took the final step towards him. "Stiles," she asked softly, "would you do me the honor of accompanying me to prom?"

Stiles smiled. "Yeah," he breathed, the violins continuing their long, sweet notes. He stared down at her, his gaze slowly drifting towards her mouth. He tuned out the confused murmur of their classmates. All he had to do was lean in slightly and they could kiss.

Lydia beamed, her green eyes sparkling in amusement. She leaned forwards and Stiles rushed to meet her. Maybe a bit too eagerly. Their noses bonked. Their angle was just _slightly_ off. Stiles blamed their height difference. Determinedly, Stiles readjusted, but overcompensated because apparently Lydia had the same idea he did. Their lips brush past each other and Stiles ended up awkwardly kissing the top corner of Lydia's mouth. Lydia turned her face into Stiles' neck and giggled. Stiles smiled down nervously as he felt Lydia smirk against his neck. She sucked lightly on his neck but then pulled back and gazed at him under hooded eyes. Stiles' heart thudded.

She snaked her arms up his chest and firmly took ahold of Stiles' face. She gave him a soft, private smile as she guided their lips together. Her lips glided past his. Stiles was almost overwhelmed by the hint of strawberry, and her surprisingly gentle, warm lips. He quickly snapped out of his daze and responded. Lydia made an approving noise in the back of her throat. Stiles smiled faintly as he parted his mouth and gently grabbed and sucked her lower lip. Lydia's approving noise turned into a soft moan as she twisted her fingers through his hair.

Someone in the crowd hooted and Stiles casually lifted his middle finger in their general direction.

"What is going on here?" Mr. Johnson fumed, causing them to pull away from each other. Lydia looked more annoyed than anything. Stiles smiled at his…girlfriend? Maybe? Hopefully. "You know our school has a strict no PDA policy."

"What's their policy on obvious teacher biasness and not teaching proper lab procedure and mislabeling chemicals?" Lydia drawled, not missing a beat. Stiles linked their fingers together, probably ruining the dignified image she was attempting to project, but the instant tightening of her hand lead him to believe she didn't mind. Stiles grinned.

"That could cause problems during an experiment," Stiles mused.

"It could," Lydia agreed, "and not all mistakes could be harmless. I happen to know a very prominent lawyer if the need arises."

Mr. Johnson glared between the two of them, but seemed unnerved by Lydia's glare, which is understandable. She's a formidable force of nature. Stiles pulled her closer. Lydia came willingly, but never broke eye contact with Mr. Johnson. "Just don't do it again," he sputtered before storming off. His exit seemed to remind the other students that school was, in fact, a thing. They started talking in a dull roar and began shuffled through the hallways. Lydia scoffed at Mr. Johnson's retreating back.

"Absolutely no fight. Pathetic. He does realize he actually has authority at this school?"

Stiles stared at Lydia with open admiration. Lydia not only tampered with Mr. Johnson's experiment, she flaunted it in front of the chemist, and Mr. Johnson didn't do a thing about it. And now Lydia was critiquing him. This is beautiful. Lydia is beautiful.

"What?" she asked haughtily, but she bit her lip. She could not possibly be worried about rejection.

He snuck his face closer to hers and brushed their lips together. Before kissing her forehead, cheeks, nose, and mouth again in quick succession. Lydia let out a squeal she would later deny and Stiles smirked as he peppered her with kisses.

"I can't…believe…that you made Mr. Johnson's…flask explode," Stiles murmured between kisses.

"He deserved it."

"I don't deserve you," Stiles said seriously, pulling back. "You're fantastic."

Lydia's eyes flashed in mix of pleasure and annoyance. Stiles cocked his head to the side. "I believe you got that flipped around."

"No, I didn't."

"You did actually. Did you forget my entire speech? You're the only—"

"And yet you still—damn."

"What is it this time?"

"_This_ time?"

Lydia sighed. "Yes, _this_ time. As opposed to the _other_ times you abruptly think of something and stop mid-sentence."

"Hmph. I feel like I should be offended."

"You really shouldn't."

"I realized something."

"So I gathered."

"We're going to be one of _those_ couples."

Lydia frowned at him. "No, we're—shit we are."

"Right? We're already saying we don't deserve each other."

"Maybe this is just the honeymoon stage?"

"Nope, I'm pretty sure I'll always live in fear of the day you wake up and realize you can do better."

"I can't '_do_' better," Lydia snapped. "I don't want to '_do_' better. Why do you have to be so self-deprecating—Stiles, we're doing it again."

"Welp. We tried," Stiles shrugged, tugging Lydia away from the main lobby. "I guess we can just continue to be gag-worthy and annoy our friends. Scott especially deserves it."

"This is true."

"And at least we tied up all loose ends," Stiles said cheerfully.

"How so?"

"We confessed our feelings for each other, you successfully wooed me, Scott gets his vomit-worthy romance comeuppance, Mr. Johnson definitely got his comeuppance, and—"

"I confessed my feelings to you," Lydia said. "Did you miss my display? You did no such thing."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Lydia, have I ever not confessed my feelings towards you? I worshipped you until I got to know you." Lydia made a mildly offended noise. "I still worship you! But you know…less. You have to know how I feel about you. You fit my 'beautiful, strawberry blonde, genius' type quite well."

"Oh good, I was worried."

"You deserve all the romantic gestures, even the grossly cliché ones," Stiles said, "I want to watch The Notebook with you once a week, I want to walk you to class and carry your stuff, I want to have you cheer at my lacrosse games, I want to hold your hands, I want to snuggle during the winter and cuddle when it's disgustingly hot outside, I want to see you without makeup, I want…you. You're everything. You're fantastic."

Lydia felt a warm tingle buzz around her body and her face heat up. She hadn't blushed in years. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We really are going to be a sickening couple, aren't we?"

"Yep," Stiles chirped. "We have no choice."

"And all loose ends are tied up, except one."

Stiles raised an eyebrow.

"We never figured out whose birthday it was."

Stiles stopped in the middle of the hallway. Lydia halted next to him in amusement. She smirked fondly at Stiles' gaping mouth and frown. "You're right…"

"Should we get red yarn?"

"Lots of red yarn."

**And there's my first shot at Stydia! This is dedicated to the lovely ModernFemMerlinSpy as a very belated bday present. But hopefully Avenger's and annoying mysteries made up for it? Bc hey! You totally didn't see this being a birthday present, did you?**


End file.
